


Chaos and Control

by averageclawenfangirl



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Angst, Claire x Owen, Clawen, Clawen Prompt, Comforting, Emotional Hurt, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Post Isla Nublar, movieverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5601913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averageclawenfangirl/pseuds/averageclawenfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Owen and Claire decide to take a break after the incident to see or date other people to know what they have is real.' A beautiful anonymous Tumblr soul gifted me this amazing prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Claire

**Author's Note:**

> I go off track a bit, as always, but I hope you enjoy!

“So, promise you’ll call?” A low voice echoed about the room, a large hand finding Claire’s shoulder and squeezing it gently. She moved away as though she’d been scalded by burning water, standing up and zipping her dress with practiced ease. “Uh… Yeah. Sure.” She lifted her head momentarily from her search for her heels and flashed him meagre smile. _Not in a million years._ Peter was still stretched out languidly in his bed, the only sign of Claire’s presence ever having being there the slight rumple in the sheets on her side. He smiled back at her; innocent and lopsided, and she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. _It wasn’t his fault._ Slipping on her shoes and belting her trench coat, she headed out the door without a backwards glance.

On paper, Peter seemed ideal. The perfect fit. Great job, adventurous personality and an actual thirst to know her as a person: Claire Dearing, the 32-year-old woman from Wisconsin. Not Claire Dearing, former Park Operations Manager of the resort that had claimed nearly one hundred lives six months ago. The incident at Jurassic World had become a disease; woven into her skin and every waking moment. And yet, she thought she’d found a cure. Owen Grady, the man who had been by her side throughout the entire ordeal, a physical and emotional lifeline thrown to her as she had drowned in the panic of a loose genetic mutation hell-bent on instinctive murder.

Yes, they had agreed to stick together. For survival. The moment it was uttered from his lips, accompanied by those sensual narrowed eyes, she couldn’t help but smile. Tongue in cheek even after a day that had taken something from the both of them that they’d never retrieve. They had walked from the safety of the hangar into the blistering Costa Rican sunlight, hands reaching for one another’s after a moment: slow, yet needy for the other’s comforting grip. They began to talk – by God, did they talk. They told stories about everything other than Jurassic World. Owen’s upbringing in California, his naval deployment, his incredible journey training dolphins – the subject of the girls he had lost still too painful to discuss. Claire had listened intently, hanging onto every word. They both knew they were attempting to blockade themselves from the storm brewing; the lawsuits, the press meetings, the court hearings. All of it undoubtedly ahead of them, and as Claire found herself hopelessly lost in the green devastation of his eyes – still so eager even after the ordeal they had been through – she wondered whether the intensity of what she was feeling could only be attributed to what she and Owen had survived together. He’d kissed her, in the wave of Pteranodon madness, and it had felt nothing short of an electric shock coursing through her veins, stinging her conscious. It had felt vital, necessary. Forty-eight hours previously, the man in front of Claire drove her almost close to insanity on a daily basis. They’d been thrown together by a chaos of the worst kind. _Would it be enough to alter the events of the future?_

As Claire exited Peter’s complex and hailed a taxi, the reality of the previous evening’s events began to hit her. It had been their third date, and he’d taken her to the best restaurant in town; The Milano. It had been perfect – almost too perfect. Peter had excused himself for the bathroom, and Claire had foolishly used the time to ask herself just what the hell she was doing there, with him. Yes; he knew how to woo her, to charm her, to make her forget the trauma she’d suffered half a year before. But there was still something defiant, something struggling in the corner of her mind, a fire refusing to quell beneath the waves. Claire had visited the restaurant before, with Owen. A celebratory dinner, brought about by the end of the final lawsuit. The two of them had sought out a secluded booth towards the back wall, ordered steak and red wine, trying to approach their future with a sense of light-heartedness. Owen had taken her home to their rental, pushing her gently against their bedroom door and trailing kisses lovingly down her neck. Claire had been exhausted; the legal rigmarole had begun the moment she’d alighted from the plane in Costa Rica and hadn’t relented since. He’d been there, though. _Owen._ She couldn’t fault him, even though he’d risked jail twice for punching paparazzi who wouldn’t give her space. He’d chauffeured her to and from meetings and interviews, even though he was certainly still in high demand himself. The footage of the two of them on Main Street had somehow been leaked; and overnight they’d become the unfortunate faces of the whole Jurassic World disaster, instaneously as traceable as Mickey was to Disney – but for all the wrong reasons. They faced the crowds together, the screeches and wails and insults from the public, condemning them to hell for what they’d done. Their hands clasped one another’s tightly, the lifeline still intact, black aviator shades protecting them from the harsh glare of the entire world. Once safely ensconced in the car Owen would trace his thumb lightly over her knuckles, ensuring her skin flushed pink again as the tension left her.

As Peter returned to the table, kissing the top of her head lightly and thus interrupting her reverie, Claire knew it wasn’t wise to continue whatever it was they had. _Owen. Owen. Owen._ It was a constant tempo in her head, a reminder of him with every thrum of her heartbeat, his face not one she would ever forget. Peter tried to love her, that night, hands wandering about the body that had lost more weight than she’d care to admit since Isla Nublar. She’d let him have his way, closing her eyes and trying desperately not to think of evergreen eyes and coarse, messy facial hair she never thought she’d miss trailing her fingers against.

Sitting in the cab, now, on the way to the apartment she owned in downtown San Diego; Claire reminded herself of the reasons she and Owen weren’t together, a mantra she’d learnt to repeat to herself wordlessly. Their date had been nothing short of a disaster; chaos and control battling for dominance over the dinner table. They shared almost nothing in common, their upbringings worlds apart and ideas for the future now scattered like ash into the air. The weeks they’d shared together in the aftermath had been intense; neither of them sleeping through the night, their bodies drenched in sweat and clinging to one another as though they were the only true presence in a sea of nightmarish dreams. Owen would hold Claire as she sobbed against the shower wall, her fists pummelling the ceramic as her unanswered scream of _‘Why?!’_ echoed under the burning steam time and time again. Claire was terrified by how much she relied on him; and when all was said and done, what was left? _Would Owen even want to be with a shuddering, guilty, wreck of a mass murderer?_

She shouldn’t have pushed him away. Claire knew it was through her own doing that Owen volunteered to leave, to find separate lodgings for himself. It felt so mundane, like a couple splitting after a few years together and wanting something new. Claire just needed to _know,_ to know deep in her heart and soul that what she and Owen had was real. That it wasn’t just the result of shared trauma and a sense of obligation to care for the other. And; as she sat chewing her fingernails cautiously in the back of the cab, tears threatening to flow hot and free from her exhausted eyes, Claire knew that feeling this way must mean something. Owen Grady was an itch she couldn’t scratch, a bruise that wouldn’t fade. _And she didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with that information._


	2. Owen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen reflects on his past and dwells on his current situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy! :-)

The Indominus heaved itself away from the jeep, bloodcurdling roar deafening Owen’s ears. He remained still as he heard - and felt - her career away from him, feet larger than half his home taking her away from his hidden presence with each earth-shattering step. Away from him, but closer to Claire. Claire _god damn Dearing,_ renowned corporate bitch and unknown queen of his heart. _She should have listened – they all should have listened._ Owen had made a considerable scene when corporate had informed all employees of the park of the new asset to be unveiled that summer. _Unlike anything anyone had ever seen before,_ was how Masrani had marketed it. He’d been right about that. Fucking around with genetics had never done anybody any good before, and every crazy ass scientist in that godforsaken lab was going to pay the price for the hellbeast they had created. It was too late now to mourn what they had done. 

The Indominus – incredibly intelligent animal that she was – was undoubtedly bound to zero in on the thousands of heat signatures wandering innocently around Main Street. He shifted from his safe spot, body aching to find a way to get to Claire. _Claire, Claire, Claire_ … Suddenly the picture changed, as fast as a projection show. The Indominus leering above them as she broke through the roof, teeth glazed with many a man’s blood bearing down on them. Both Owen and Claire running to save their souls… But she wasn’t fast enough… Her ankle, twisting in those ridiculous shoes she insisted on wearing, becoming her Achilles heel as she screamed his name through the darkness… He turned at just the right moment to see the Indominus’ jaw stretch wide with insatiable hunger, as she devoured Claire in one instinctive clash of teeth. He himself began to scream, his throat torn to shreds by the fire that consumed him… _He had failed to save her, and surely now he wouldn’t even be able to save himself…_

“Owen? Owen!” A soft voice assaulted his senses, caressing his psyche as his eyes opened wearily. Vanilla hung in the air, and his hands reached for the burnt red tresses before him. Owen rested his forehead against Claire’s, forehead slick with sweat and heart beating a mile a minute. “I’m sorry…” Owen mumbled, lips parting mere millimetres from Claire’s own. “Same dream as last time,” he continued, voice hoarse as tears threatened. “Oh, sweetheart,” Claire breathed, folding her arms around him as 5am San Diego streamed through the blinds of their apartment. “I’m here,” she murmured, fingers threading through his hair. “I’ll always be here.”

It was no secret that Owen had fallen for Claire as soon as he’d set eyes on her. Hands on her narrow hips; chest pushed out defensively and chin tilted in the air, outside his bungalow at 8pm on a Friday evening. “Mr. Grady, if you cannot treat Mr. Hoskins with even a shred of respect, then I shall see to it that you are let go. Are we clear?” She demanded, intoxicating blue eyes fearlessly holding his gaze. _Damn, she was beautiful,_ he’d thought. Even more so when she’s fired up in this way. All Owen had wanted to do was tug her towards him, fist his hands in that gorgeous golden red hair and silence her arguments with his own mouth. But he was already skating on the thinnest ice around, so he decided not to push his luck. On that occasion, at least. From there on out, taunting Claire became his favourite past time – just to see that alabaster skin warm in frustration gave him a special kind of joy. 

He thought that asking her out on a date would be just another of those occasions, that she’d throw it back in his face with all the venom of a cobra. Of course, he didn’t want her to do that. Owen had fallen for Claire harder than he’d ever want to admit: pulling her pigtails to get a reaction out of her was purely just a way to spend time in her presence. So, when she accepted; flames of determination alight in her eyes at the thought of the power play involved, he couldn’t help but feel slightly euphoric. Although, there was no denying what he had let himself in for. The game of cat and mouse had reached its natural end, and Owen felt as though he’d thrown himself to the wolves. _It’d be okay, though._ He was sure of it. Get a good meal and a few tequilas down her; and Claire would be putty in his hands, malleable and responsive to his touch, his practiced charm. How wrong he was.

_You’re a fool,_ Owen told himself as he recounted the memories on his journey home from the zoo. _Just let her go. The memories bring you nothing but pain._ Sighing and scratching his unruly beard as he sat in evening traffic, he begged his mind to wander elsewhere. It had been six months since Jurassic World – since the Indominus, since the death, since Claire. And Owen was no closer to closing the gaping wound in his heart. Although the physical injuries had long since healed, the mental and emotional scars remained. Although his date with Claire had self-destructed as soon as she bemoaned his choice of board shorts and wrinkled her nose (in a way he did _not_ find adorable) at his suggestion of tequila, a certain genetic mutation had acted as a bloodthirsty matchmaker and thrown them irrevocably into one another’s path again. She had needed him, and not for a moment did he question denying her. They had made a home – a life – together, in San Diego, once the dust from Isla Nublar had finally settled. Or, so he thought. Owen had made it his life’s aim to be her rock; her solid foundation after everything Claire had ever known had been wrenched from her, even though his own soul had been scattered after the loss of his girls.

Clearly, Claire couldn’t have seen it that way. When the flashbulbs stopped popping and the families quit their mindless blaming, she seemed to recoil from him in every sense. The intimate evenings and blissful mornings they’d once shared in one another’s arms ceased, like a candle snuffed in the daylight. She began to search for a job – not that she told him. Owen found out after reading the papers left on the kitchen counter, her resume updated as best it could be despite the circumstances. Of course, it wasn’t long before Masrani Global were calling, offering her a brilliant position in the managerial sector at their San Diego base. It had been like trying to draw blood from a stone, poking and prodding her for information regarding her future. Claire told him with a tight smile drawn across her face; _she wouldn’t be home as often anymore._ It wasn’t like it made a difference to him, anyway. Every time, now, when he reached for her in bed; she’d roll over, make an excuse, and avoid his pleading gaze. It wasn’t just the sex. Owen was certain that Claire was the most intelligent, self-sufficient, brave and beautiful woman he’d ever had the privilege to hold in his arms; and the idea that she couldn’t even bring herself to converse with him – let alone sleep with him – saddened him to the core.

So, Owen did what felt right. What he thought she would want. As they passed one another in the hall, a standard Monday morning, he told Claire that he’d be moving out, week after next. He’d just secured a position as tiger behaviourist at the city zoo, so it was natural to want to be closer. Her eyes, dull with false excitement, revealed nothing. Owen thought that now may be the moment – for her to explain what had changed, what had caused her to resent him in this way. How they had gone from two stubborn opposites, thrown together to survive despite the odds; to two people who had scars from the other’s fingernails etched into their skin, the black nights of terrifying dreams fought through together, back to a man hopelessly in love with an unreachable woman. Alas, she merely congratulated him, and began to discuss the financial formalities that their living together had brought about.

“Claire,” Owen had interrupted her, voice barely a whisper. He was hardly able to bear the monotonous tone of her voice, pure disbelief sinking through him that all they had was going to end in this way. He reached out, hand stroking past her cheekbones and delving into the soft hair he so loved, thumb stroking the skin tenderly. Her guileless eyes bored holes into him for a fraction of second, a thousand unspoken words clustering in the tear that formed and dropped down her nose. Claire shook her head, severing the connection. Clearing her throat, a wan smile stretched at her face as she nodded in apparent enthusiasm. “Anyway, like I was saying. I’ll probably keep on going here for a few months, until Masrani offer me somewhere closer to the office…” She began, and Owen knew all attempts to regain the intimacy had evaporated as fast as the lone tear she had wept for him. _For them. For what they once had._

Now, as he pulled up on the driveway alongside April’s Chrysler, Owen knew that he had to exorcise the ghost of Claire. She haunted both his memories and conscious train of thought. He mourned her as though she had indeed passed – even though she was in the same city, breathing the same air, bearing the same scars. He and April had been dating for a few months now – Owen had met her at the zoo, where she oversaw a herd of miniature horses. It was supremely pleasant to be around someone who took none of his bullshit and gave as good as she got. April was funny and sexy, _so why couldn’t he take his mind off of the redhead who had broken his heart?_ It wasn’t fair to April, the amount he thought about Claire. _She didn’t want you. She didn’t need you._ Owen exited his jeep, fumbling for his keys in the fading daylight. _It was time to move on._ He had a girl who loved him – she’d already told him enough times – and it felt right to commit to it, to pursue a relationship that wouldn’t leave him hurt and out in the cold. _Time to forget about those dinosaurs and the formidable duchess of the park they came from._


	3. Independence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire admits many things to herself.

They didn’t leave the island as soon as they’d have liked, along with the thousands of others flocking to the passenger ships. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to – they couldn’t. ACU reinforcements had finally reached Isla Nublar, and with Simon Masrani dead, they looked to the second in command for instructions as to what happened next. That second in command happened to be a certain Ms. Claire Dearing. She urged Owen to follow both the Mitchells and Barry onto a ferry, telling him she’d be in touch as soon as she landed in mainland Costa Rica and all at Jurassic World had been put to rest. He laughed in her face. “Claire… Did you not hear me a couple of hours ago?! _My god,_ woman. I said for survival, and I meant it. Come on, I heard one of the commanders saying we need to report to the hangar in five minutes,” he’d murmured, looping his fingers through hers and kissing the worry from her forehead.

One hour, and one suitcase. It was all they had. With both Blue and the T-Rex still on the loose, both Claire and Owen were accompanied separately to their homes by a large group of military guardsmen. Claire felt empty inside, hollowed out by the silence that followed being surrounded by a thousand people screaming and crying out for their lives. She caught her reflection in the hallway mirror, and instantaneously wished she hadn’t. Her pale face illuminated by the setting sun dripping through the open blinds, streaked with dirt and her tears for those she couldn’t save. She showered, quickly; fighting the urge to succumb to sobbing under the steam. Hair still damp, Claire threw open her closet. Row after row of pristine designer attire gleamed in her direction – mostly white, her go-to colour in regards to her marble skin and auburn hair. Now, they just looked like teeth. Rows and rows of teeth, _so close to her, almost touching her, almost taking her…_ Claire took a step back and breathed deeply through her nose to calm herself. _Control yourself, Claire._

Regardless, she took to the dresser instead, emptying her more casual – therefore, basically untouched – wardrobe into the case. Jeans, sweaters, plaid shirts, pumps, sneakers… She added a few necessary toiletries, cosmetics, and valuables, and she was out the door without another turn of her head. The island was haunting her. The idea that she’d left the same hallway less than yesterday morning for what she thought would be another normal day at work, an awkward reunion with her nephews… it seemed unreal. Like a page from a book she’d probably leave on the shelf. Horror hadn’t been her thing.

Owen found it a little harder to let go of his home. The packing, sure. It didn’t take him long. He was grateful to the ACU team for even accompanying him out here, to permit him to journey out this far into the now-uncontained wilderness. As he surveyed the bungalow, suitcase by his knees, Owen felt his heart stoop a little lower than he even thought possible. He’d been happy here. The girls, Barry, teasing Claire relentlessly on a daily basis, knowing she’d just have to give in soon… He had been content. After his turbulent years in the navy, he thought he’d found his forever-after. _Life just doesn’t work out that way, huh._

Switching the generator off and surveying the place with one last glance, he focused his attention to the Polaroid clutched in his hand. Him, crouched down in the paddock, with the raptors mere months after they hatched. Still the size of an average puppy, he had Charlie and Echo balanced in each hand, Delta nipping at his knee and Blue on his shoulder. He remembered the day it was taken as though it were only yesterday – Barry telling him to _hold on just a moment_ as he grabbed his camera. Owen had been squinting in the sunlight, laughter erupting across his face at the absurdness of the situation. A proud father and his precious prehistoric children. Now, as he dragged his gaze from the photo to the stars above, he swallowed his tears. _No more._

The group reassembled in the Control Room, a senior officer informing Owen that Claire had set up camp in her office and had requested Owen report to her when he arrived. _Maybe she had a job for him, a task for him to do?_ He knocked on her door, and was alarmed by the frailness of the voice that replied. Claire was curled up in her expansive leather chair, its size dwarfing her defeated frame. She was dressed in a white cashmere sweater, blue jeans and Converse. Converse. He smiled for what felt like the first time in decades. _It only took the destruction of everything she knew to be normal to change Claire Dearing’s outlook on appropriate footwear._ “You wanted to see me?” Owen prompted her gently, scrubbing a hand through his hair nervously. “Uh, yeah. Would you mind just coming over here for a moment?” she whispered, alighting from the chair and gesturing him to sit down in it in her place. He did so, slightly bewildered. 

She crawled onto his lap, hands furled under her chin as she breathed into the skin above his collarbone. “You okay?” he murmured, knowing the answer before she spoke. One hand rested on the small of her back, the other coming across to weave his fingers through her curls. “I like your hair like this, you know” he commented quietly, and it was then that the dam seemed to burst. Claire began to sob, great gasps heaving through her small frame. “Don’t leave me, Owen,” she pleaded, sounding so beyond desperation that his heart splintered in two. Rocking her gently, pressing kisses to her temple and tracing circles on her back, he tried to calm her. _“I won’t, Claire. You know I won’t.”_

// 

“So, what does your job involve?” Emmet enquired, innocently enough. She met him in the grocery store, after Claire had dropped an egg on the floor in fright when she thought somebody had recognised her. He seemed kind, charismatic, and he was handsome. He was a distraction. Claire ceased stirring her mojito, slightly unnerved by the sight of him drinking a margarita. _Stop it, Claire._ “Uh, I work for Masrani Global? You know - the telecoms company?” She barely whispered in reply. Claire hoped to high heaven that the man in front of her wouldn’t piece the horrifying jigsaw together. She’d let her hair grow out past her shoulders, and let it dry everyday into its natural curls. Combine that with a strawberry-blonde dye job, and she thought she could pass for someone other than the bobbed redhead who commandeered the infamous Jurassic World and its tragic aftermath. _She hoped._ “Oh, yeah, I know it. You worked there a while?” He proposed.

Claire could feel the blush slowly creeping into her cheeks as she adjusted the neckline on her white halter-dress. “I’ve worked there for a fair few years, yeah. Not always in San Diego, though. I transferred a few… A few months ago,” Her voice wobbled, and she hated herself for giving any slight inclination she was nervous. Thankfully, Emmet didn’t seem to sense anything wrong. Claire deftly turned the attention to his career – he was a construction worker – and firmly switched the topic after that. He really was a wonderful guy – as the bar became increasingly crowded, heavy music thumping around her ears, he’d lead Claire to the dance floor and showed off some impressively dorky moves, encouraging her to do the same. The tone of the music shifted to cheesy classics, and the alcohol continued to flow as she became less and less wary of herself. 

Claire felt happier than she ever had since the destruction of her former life. Emmet’s arms around her, swaying to the beat, both of them laughing raucously, liquor puncturing each breath… It was perfect. The most idyllic way to forget the heartbreak she’d sustained. The bar was beginning to empty out; but Claire wasn’t ready for it all to end. Emmet tugged lightly on her hand, and she teetered in her heels, giggle bubbling through her throat. “ _Owen,_ ” she whined in good humour. “I don’t want to leave yet!” It took a beat for Claire to realise what she’d done. A slip of the tongue, so innocent to the man in front of her, yet groundbreaking in terms of realisation. “What did you say?!” Emmet chuckled, cupping his ear as his arm tightened round her. A strained smile tugged at her lips in Claire’s attempt to retrieve her former joy. “I just said… I don’t want to leave yet!” Emmet smiled, and tucked a hand under her chin as he kissed her. It deepened, and Claire felt once again closed off from what was once in front of her, yearning for a piece of her past she’d thrown away so carelessly with so little thought of the impact.

Claire woke the next day with a vice-like pain in her head and an empty space in bed beside her. She was grateful for the latter. She couldn’t lie to herself anymore in regards to fact that she was hopelessly searching for someone – _anyone_ – to fill the void Owen had left in her life. _Correction: the void she’d caused Owen to leave in her life._ Men had come and gone since he had departed. Each of them charming and worldly-wise in their own way, and each of them nothing in comparison to the charming jackass who’d turned out to be her saviour in her darkest hour. Said hour was not at the park – _no, no, she’d handled herself pretty well there, thankyou very much._ The welted scars on her hands from the flare were staggering proof that she was no damsel, nor had she been in distress she couldn’t handle on her own.

Claire’s darkest hours had come afterward, the screaming and crying in the four walls of her office clasped in Owen’s arms. Not once had he belittled her – not then, nor in the weeks that followed. Not once did he diminish her confidence, or tell her he’d handle it himself: Owen let Claire deal with the aftermath on her own terms, and allowed himself to be used as a crutch of support. He was the person he had been on that fateful day on Isla Nublar: a necessary aid, one half of a whole. Owen helped her discover her independence again; when he knew it was in danger of disappearing for good. He told Claire everyday that _she could do it,_ she could face those assholes in the same way she’d done in the boardroom time after time – the same way that had made him fall for her.

As her headache raged and her fingers shook, Claire knew she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be thinking about Owen. Even more so, to be thinking about why she shouldn’t have let him leave. She’d pushed him away because she was frightened – more frightened than anything Jurassic World had thrown at her. Claire was afraid of falling in love, she was afraid that what she and Owen had wouldn’t survive the test of the real world; where average couples aren’t hunted by beasts that shouldn’t even exist anymore. 

Claire was most afraid of relinquishing her independence – a thought that hadn’t occurred to her until that moment. But, disturbingly, she came to the realisation that Owen _was_ her independence. The way he’d relentlessly flirted with her, and she’d never given in to the temptation. The way she’d saved him on the island, eighty-eight teeth behind her and everything to lose. The way he had given her confidence to become the woman she’d once been, after everything was destroyed and she had to face the world. Owen made her feel like the fierce, compassionate redhead who’d been running Jurassic World for five years and had nowhere to go but up.

Claire ran a warm bath, sunk her hung-over self into it and began to plan. _Owen worked at the zoo, right?_ It wouldn’t be that hard to seek an audience with him there. She hadn’t seen his face since he packed his belongings and left, and the last look he had given her had been one of pure regret. Claire knew she’d been less than pleasant to him – her standoffish manner actually causing him to uproot himself and leave her alone in their former apartment. _Because it was what she thought she wanted._ Shaking her head, Claire exhaled with true clarity of mind. She wanted to feel that way she had in the bar last night. She wanted to be carefree, courageous – _hell, she wanted to be the boss again._ And Claire wanted Owen by her side when it happened.  



	4. Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen makes a decision, and Claire finds something that changes her life.

“Owen, could you come to the training room for a moment, hon?” April’s voice crackled through the walkie-talkie strapped to his belt. She sounded nervous, and excited. The sort of breathlessness that only comes from withholding a secret. Despite himself, Owen couldn’t help but panic a little. April could be a little flighty at times, dramatic and spontaneous. He certainly wouldn’t put it past her to do something as crazy as propose to him in front of all their colleagues. Marriage had certainly been a topic she’d brought up in several recent discussions. “Uh, yeah, sure. Let me just wrap things up for the evening here, and I’ll be right on over,” he murmured.

More and more of April’s possessions had begun to appear in Owen’s house, her presence in his life more defined than ever. It was like the autumn leaves – scattering slowly at first, until it was all-consuming. Her toothbrush alongside his, Converse neighbouring Timberlands. _This is normal,_ he told himself. _This is what you need._

April had introduced Owen to her group of friends, and with a new social scene alongside his heavy schedule at work; he hardly had time to think about her. _Claire Dearing._ The thorn in his side. The woman who’d once made him feel as though he was viewing the world through rose-tinted glasses, despite everything that had happened. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look twice at every redheaded woman who visited the zoo, wondering if she’d come back to him. 

Guilt ate away at his stomach every time he made love to April; closing his eyes blissfully as he threaded his fingers through her dark hair, allowing himself to fall into the salacious daydream that he was once again clinging to Claire’s golden red glory. That was when a sated April would mention marriage – rolling onto her side and telling Owen how _good_ they were for each other, like they were _made_ for one another.

“Don’t you think we’re moving a little fast, here?” was the reply he’d always give, variations of the phrase rolling off his tongue every time with ease. He’d soften the blow with a smirk, a laugh, a kiss. Coating his commitment issues with sweet sugar. April would sigh in good humour, suggesting that she would bite the bullet before he did and choose the ring herself.

With these thoughts raging like static in his mind, Owen closed down the tiger enclosure for the evening and headed to the training room in the zoo’s headquarters. April clapped her hands in glee as Owen shuffled his feet through the door, unsure of what was coming next.

“Babe!” she squealed, “you’ll never guess what…” April dragged him by the hand to stand with the zoo’s director, Nick. “Tell him!” April encouraged the man, who looked at Owen with his wide smile and kind eyes. “Our sister park in Virginia have requested that April join them to implement her incredible work with their foals,” Nick said softly as April jumped in excitement.

Owen barely registered what he’d heard. His stomach was a bottomless pit; freefalling through a dozen possible scenarios. “Oh, honey,” he breathed, after what felt like eternity. “Congratulations!” Owen said as he wrapped his arms around her. “Thankyou! But, the best part is… They’ve offered you a spot on their team of lion handlers! So that we can go together! Isn’t that awesome?” April grinned, innocent eyes alight with excitement.

Owen felt as though he’d been punched, the wind thrown from his sails. He could leave San Diego, with April. Move over five states away… Run from the woman who’d broken his heart. Away from the woman he still hoped to bump into round every corner. “Oh, sweetheart… _Virginia_ … I don’t know. It’s awfully far,” Owen mumbled, voice hoarse with humiliation. Owen hated to do this to her. April blinked, swallowed, regaining her composure in a beat. He loved that about her. “Well, we can talk about it at home. Discuss our options,” she murmured, one hand absent-mindedly smoothing down his shirt, avoiding his gaze.

“You’ve got seven days until they need a decision,” Nick interjected softly, ridding the air of awkwardness. Owen merely nodded, his brain still silently trying to teach his heart a lesson. Claire didn’t want him, and she’d made it perfectly clear. There was nothing keeping him in this city. Working with the tigers was undoubtedly an incredible career, but it was nothing in comparison to the bond he’d had with the girls. A fresh start, with a woman who loved him. _What did he have to lose?_

//

It took Claire a week to muster up the courage she would need to confront Owen. It took almost the same amount of time to piece together the outfit she would wear. As she sat, now, staring into her reflection in the vanity, she decided on the last touch. A pair of earrings Owen had brought her for her thirtieth birthday… A birthday that occurred merely a week after surviving hell on Earth on Isla Nublar.

_The clean-up had been completed, and the two of them released. They slipped easily into the rental, a safe haven before the press began to hunt them down, as bloodthirsty as the beasts they’d just escaped. Owen had almost shyly presented her with an unmistakeable small turquoise box, and her heart had stopped as she jumped the wrong conclusion._

_“Oh, Owen… I don’t even…” Claire mumbled, tripping over her words as anxiety bubbled in her throat. “Oh, god – no – it’s not a ring,” Owen chuckled weakly, as he carefully snapped open the Tiffany casing. Gorgeous silver drop earrings sat inside, and Claire gasped in awe. “Owen, you really didn’t need to, I mean, Tiffany…” Owen rolled his eyes as he kissed her forehead. “Happy Birthday, Claire,” he mumbled, nothing other than adoration in his eyes, something that made her heart flutter. “How did you know?! How did you even have the time?” Claire questioned intently, before Owen pressed a chaste kiss to her lips with a laugh. “I’m not sure if you ever noticed, babe, but I kinda have a major crush on you.”_

Despite herself, despite the whole damned situation, Claire couldn’t help but smile at the memory. She slid one earring in, but accidentally dropped the other; muttering an expletive and cursing her jittering nerves as she sought the lost piece of jewellery under her bed. Her fingers came into contact with, instead, something smooth that felt almost like an envelope.

She edged it out, and turned it over to see _Claire_ written on the front, Owen’s haphazard scrawl noticeable immediately. “What the…?” Claire whispered, heart tightening as her world constricted to nothing but the piece of paper in front of her. She pulled out the letter with shaking hands, seeing it was dated the day he’d taken his belongings and left, and began to read.

//

Claire’s whole body vibrated with nerves as she alighted from the cab outside of the zoo. She’d gotten there on autopilot, the contents of the letter directing her every move. Claire needed to talk to Owen – to see him, to hold him; to tell him what she’d done had been a colossal mistake. _She needed to tell him that she loved him._

Claire knew he worked with the tigers, and not much else. Following the directions on the kiddy map, she struggled to put one Louboutin in front of the other without fear of passing out. _Funny - she could run from a prehistoric Satan incarnate wearing the same amount of inches; but now, it felt almost impossible._ Nerves would kill her where dinosaurs had failed.

She paced round the enclosure, the tigers lazily flicking their tails in the morning sun. Claire paused for a moment, soaking in their majestic beauty as they observed her with amber eyes. To think that Owen was working with these beautiful creatures, made her heart swell with pride… She should’ve asked him about it, spoke to him about his passion. The girls certainly had ‘got’ him in a way Claire didn’t, but now she was going to change that, all or nothing.

“Can I help you?” A soft voice interrupted Claire’s reverie, and she turned to find a kind-faced man watching her intently. He looked out of place in a suit, his dark hair and moustache pressed neatly. As foreign to the zoo as she must have looked to Jurassic World. “Uh… Yeah, I hope so,” Claire mumbled. “I’m looking for Owen Grady?” The man narrowed his eyes – not unkindly – and Claire felt almost x-rayed, her purpose for being there on show for all to see. _I need to tell him that I love him. I need to know if he feels the same._

“He’s not here. He’s transferring to our Virginian park, with his girlfriend, April. In fact, they just left for the airport, about ten minutes ago,” he said, tilting his head slightly as he registered Claire’s reaction. _Virginia?! Girlfriend?!_ Claire’s heart was hammering against her chest, a sweat sheening her forehead. _She was too late. It was bittersweet. The letter had been a goodbye._

Claire didn’t notice how close to her the man had gotten, until he touched her arm lightly. “If you leave now, you may be able to catch them. Go. Now,” he urged her, intent clear in his eyes. Claire felt bewildered, hope bolstered again by the faith of a complete stranger. “I don’t – I don’t understand,” she sputtered, but the man shook his head vigorously. “Thankyou,” she whispered. “I’m Claire, by the way,” she added. The man merely smiled as he ushered her towards the gate, simply muttering: “I know.”

//

Claire searched blindly through the sea of people at the drop-off point of the airport, tears welling hot and heavy in her eyes as failure chased through her veins. _Girlfriend._ Owen had someone, and he was moving halfway across the country with her. Claire had never felt so torn, or more selfish. She needed to find Owen, and speak with him, if only for a moment. For his closure, and her own.

_There._ Owen Grady, sat on a canvas backpack, scrubbing his beard with his hands and staring blankly ahead. _His go-to position when he was anxious,_ Claire thought, her heart breaking at the sight of him. She edged through the crowds towards him, the gleeful shouts and hollers from travellers falling on deaf ears, her senses all tuned to the man in front of her. 

“Owen?” Claire half-whispered when she reached him, and his head turned to look up from his sitting position. “ _Claire?!_ ” he almost yelled, scrambling to stand beside her. Claire hummed despite herself. The height difference, the smell of his cologne – Owen always commented on the fact she smelled of vanilla, but truth be told; Claire could pick his scent out anywhere, due to circumstance of clinging onto him for all she was worth in the nights that followed Jurassic World. Freshly mown grass and something alcoholic. It was heady, soothing. 

Owen was gazing at her intently as Claire bit her lip, as she planned what to say. She’d run it over in her head a million times in the cab, but now she was right in front of him; words deserted her. Those sensual eyes and unforgettable scent… Claire felt almost transported to the first night in their rental, when they’d finally consummated _whatever it was they had_ ; torturous kisses and her body betraying her. They were surrounded by hundreds of people, but it could have easily just been the two of them; tension thick in the air as dark skies loomed above.

“Owen, I… Long time, no see,” she murmured, and Owen smirked almost sadly; faint tears ghosting over his eyes. “Uh, yeah. I guess you could say that,” he confirmed, folding his arms over one another; deploying defensive body language. Claire looked away, broke the moment, and tucked a stray hair behind her ear as she tried to compose herself.

“I tried to find you at the zoo. They told me you were leaving for Virginia, with your girlfriend,” Claire swallowed hard. _There. The elephant in the room._ Owen shrugged, green eyes once again searching her own. “All correct information, until about ten minutes ago,” he sighed heavily. “I couldn’t do it. There’s something about this city that won’t let me leave,” he mused. “Is that so?” Claire breathed, unsure of how to tread. 

Owen reached out a large hand, sweeping a thumb carefully over her cheekbone. Claire hummed in pleasure, emotion caught in her chest, leaning in to his embrace. “It is,” he whispered, and Claire smiled as she fought the tears threatening her speech. She delved into her purse, brandishing the dusty envelope. “I found this,” she said, “when I dropped an earring you brought me.”

Owen’s eyes widened in realisation as he took the letter from her gently, eyes scanning his own heart poured onto the page. Claire lifted his chin with one finger, their faces close as she started to tremble. “Read it to me,” she whispered, and Owen smiled, and took a deep breath.

_“Claire,_

_You’ll be home from work soon, and I’ll be gone, just like I know you want me to be. Please read this, and just consider what I have to say. Being with you has changed my life for the better, and I want to thank you for that. I want to thank you for the amount of times you held me, for the times you were so strong for both of us when I know how tough that must have been._

_I fell for you long before you saved my life. I fell for your fire, your wit, your passion, and your determination. I fell for the ice queen – the woman who didn’t take shit from anybody and made it all on her own. After that date of ours went wrong – man, I swear I live by no regrets, but that threatened to change everything._

_What we’ve been through together doesn’t mean we have to rely on one another for everything. I love your independence, and I’d fully support you in whatever you do. I talk to Nick – from work – so damn much about you that he wants to meet you himself. It’s a shame that it won’t happen. They think you’re a dream girl._

_And you are, in many ways. I just want you to know that I love you, and I’m sure I always will. It’s just hard to find the balance between chaos and control, but I’d try, if you were ever willing to give this a go again. You know where to find me._

_Yours, Owen”_

He finished reading, voice hoarse, and his attempt to restrain tears failed after the first sentence. Claire was crying, too, pent-up emotion coursing down her face, past a grin wider than any she’d ever felt. Owen was more than a man, to her. _He was home, he was the future._ It just took her a while to realise that what they had was more than real, more than fleeing for their lives together. “Still true?” she laughed, and Owen smiled, red-rimmed eyes full of light. “You know it is,” he whispered, and wrapped his arms around her frame. She began to kiss him without the thought of stopping.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys liked this!


End file.
